Page 59 of Tight End

He looks up, startled, his eyes popping open wide.

I flash a smile at him. “You heading inside?”

He casts a glance toward the sign hanging over the door and slowly shakes his head. “Don’t know why I should bother. This place isn’t it for me, but my dad wants me to get a football scholarship or something.” His brows furrow and he points to himself. “Me. I mean, I can’t even catch a football. But he’s always on me to do stuff to help at home and he can’t afford a sitter now because he lost his job…” He looks back at me. “So I guess I have to.”

“So what are you into if it isn’t sports?”

“Music,” he says, light flooding his eyes. I feel like I’m looking into a mirror ten years ago. He has the same glow, the same love that I had.

One I need to get back.

“You play at all?”

“I’ve got a guitar. It’s really old and the strings need to be replaced. My mom bought it for me before she died. She used to play and started to teach me but then she got too sick. I think it makes my dad sad to hear me play, so he found this place to give me something else to do.”

My gut twists. “I’m sorry about your mom. That’s really rough.”

“Yeah,” he says. “She died a couple of years ago. I really miss her.”

His eyes fill up again and shit, the kid looks like he needs a hug so badly.

But you can’t just go around hugging kids these days.

So I’m gonna try to do the next best thing.

I pull open the door and wave my hand out. The kid walks inside and looks around at the other kids in huddles. I guess these are all after-school camps for the local kids. Some older guys are working with each group of kids and I let out a relieved breath when I don’t see Jase or Lucas.

“Come on, let’s get you registered.” I smile. “What’s your name?”

“It’s James,” he says softly, alarm creeping into his expression. “But I really don’t think…these guys are huge. I can’t…I don’t know how to?—”

I clap a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” I say, leading him toward a desk in the center of the lobby. He’s stiff and clearly panicked but I think I can help.

A surge of something that actually feels good and rightrushes over me, and I have the sudden and startling urge to tell Sam about it.

“Hey, I’m here to volunteer,” I say to a college-aged girl in an Oakland Saints jersey who’s sitting behind the desk. “And this is my friend, James.”

She smiles warmly at us. “We’re always anxious to have new volunteers and program attendees. Tell me, James. Have you played sports before? Is there any one in particular you’re interested in? We have coaches for baseball, soccer, football, and hockey.”

He sneaks a look up at me. “Um, not really.”

I pull off my sunglasses and the girl’s mouth drops open.

“Omigod,” she whispers.

James looks back at me and his jaw damn near hits the floor.

“Holy cow,” he says. “You’re…you’re…”

I grin. “Yeah. I’m him.”

The girl claps her hands together and jumps out of her chair. “I am such a huge fan. And it’s an honor to have you here with us, Mr. Scott. If there’s anything we can do to make you comfortable, please let me know.”

I shake my head. “I’m not here for my comfort. I’m just here to help.” Nodding my head aside, I ask, “Can I talk to you real quick for a second?”

She practically trips over her feet to get to me.

In a low voice, I tell her what I overheard outside. “Lemme work with this kid. I know music’s not your thing but I can fix that for him. There’s a music store not too far from here. Can you keep an eye on him until I get back?”

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